


who see with blinding sight

by Mooselk



Category: Akatsuki no Yona | Yona of the Dawn, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Abi (mentioned), Alternate Universe - Fusion, Angband, Angband thrall culture, Backstory, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Melkor (implied), Sign Language, Slavery, doom and gloom, how could this possibly have been happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-25 14:58:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10766607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mooselk/pseuds/Mooselk
Summary: Shin-ah in First Age Middle Earth: exactly as depressing as expected[Akatsuki no Yona & Tolkien fusion]





	who see with blinding sight

**Author's Note:**

> Title credit to Dylan Thomas

He is lucky, he thinks, that he cannot remember the days before the mines. He was born outside, has the proof carved like tears of blood into his cheeks, neat red markings, just like Ao’s. Clan markings, Ao called them, but he did not know what Clan is. Ao explained that it is the people who watch your back, who live with you and share their food. He added with a twisted grimace, that Clan are the people who grant you death rather than let you be taken by the darkness. Clan has failed them both, according to Ao. But if he was not here, he would not have Ao, and he did not remember anything of the outside anyway. So he is lucky.  

He was young when he was taken, as young as they come. Old enough to work, but small enough to fit into the tiniest crevices. Sometimes he saw the new children, still crying in their loud voices, and wondered whether he had been that small, if he had cried like that. He couldn’t remember, though. All he had were the mine tunnels, the looming fear, and Ao.

Ao said that the mines took memories. For those who had been taken as adults, like Ao, it was slower because they had more memories to begin with. It’s why the Dark Lord preferred capturing children, or so Ao said. Their memories were not as rooted in their heads. Less chance of rebellion that way. Rebellion is another word he did not quite understand. Ao could not explain it to him for fear of being overheard and reported, even through the sign-speech that they used. He repeated it to himself in his head as they toiled, the word to each hammer strike. _Rebellion. Rebellion_. He wondered what it meant.

He is lucky. He and Ao were often sent alone into the far dark tunnels, and there they could sign to one another freely. It’s because of the eyes, Ao said. He could see perfectly in the dark, never hitting his toes or his head against rocks like everyone else seemed to. mine-eyes developed slowly, as the pupil devoured the iris and the sclera, and only those who have been in the mines for centuries could venture into the tunnels without carrying fire with them. Fire is dangerous in the deep mines, where treacherous gas pockets hide and explode upon contact with flame. But he and Ao, their eyes were not mine-eyes, but they saw sharply in the darkness, picking up on details even the Orc overseers would miss.

Ao had beautiful eyes, golden with a thin slit for an iris, and Ao said his were the same. It is how they knew they were closely related. “My grandmother had these eyes,” Ao says. “She tried to kill me when they took me but they killed her before she could.”

The others whispered about them, he knew, though his hearing was nowhere near as sharp as his sight. He could see their lips and fingers moving soundlessly in the dark when he and Ao walked past, eyes flicking to their blue tinged hair, eternally tinted by the ore dust in the deepest mines, to their slitted eyes. Yet they also shied away from him when they caught him looking. “Lhûig luin,” they whispered, bowing and averting their eyes, fear twisting their features. It was not the same fear as they had for the overseers, but no less intense. _Blue Dragons_. Ao hated it, and snarled when he heard them, fingers turning clawlike and baring his teeth. But as for himself, it is the only name he had ever known. He didn’t mind. Maybe it was true, what the old ones said, that he and Ao were spirits of misfortune come to watch over the Edhil in this place of greatest sorrow.

He is lucky. He felt the eye of the Dark Lord upon him only once, right before the end. The earth had been shaking for what felt like an eternity when all at once, he felt the burning sensation of anger and hatred pressing down on him from all sides. He knew instinctively that the Dark Lord was aware of him, could see him, inside him, and end him right there if he so wished. He screamed and heard the others around him screaming as well as the hatred swirled around them, suffocating them. Then, with a mighty crash, it was suddenly silent and still.

They cowered there for many, many shifts, daring barely to breathe from mindless fear. But no overseers came with their whips, the ever-present grinding of some hidden machinery did not return. Just silence. Some kind of darkness had lifted off the back of his mind, from above all of them. Yet they cowered and cowered until finally, “Enough,” said Ao, and took his hand. He could feel Ao’s hand trembling even as he was pulled to his feet.

The tunnels were mostly destroyed but they walked the new paths with practiced ease. Huge fissures ran through the walls, unstable and ready to collapse at the slightest pressure, but he and Ao knew the rock well and stayed well clear.

It was far too bright in the outer mines. Light spilled from somewhere far above, blocked partially by a massive stalactite. Ao stopped and looked up at it, and an emotion he could not name flitted across Ao’s face.

_Up,_ gestured Ao, _climb up towards the light._ Ao knew what to do, always. So he climbed, even as his fingers shook where they clung to the rock.

 The climb up the side of the wall was simple. With all the light, he could see every crevice large enough to grasp, could judge the stability of all the tiny ledges. The light was spilling in from a huge crack in the wall above him, where he was certain miles of rock lay above before. He hesitated for a long moment. The dark presence had been gone for so many work cycles. But what if it was a trick? What if it returned and he was up here, with the light? He would be punished, then, worse than he ever had before. He might even catch the attention of the Dark Lord. A shudder wracked his frame at the thought.

 “Go,” croaked Ao hoarsely from behind him. “Go, we’re nearly out.” And he steeled himself, and went up, up, towards the light.

It was like there were countless tiny lanterns hung from the largest ceiling. A word appeared from the black tunnel where his memories were not: _safe_. He let the little lanterns’ light wash over him and heard their distant song. There were so many, twinkling down at him. He gestured a greeting to one, and another, over and over as he found more. _Hello, I am here, hello, no danger, hello, I am here._

 A heavy hand fell on his shoulder and he flinched in surprise, so absorbed had he become in the little lights. But it was just Ao. His hair appeared even more wildly blue in the light and his eyes, the eyes they shared, were dilated and wide.

“Look, Lhûgluin,” Ao whispered, the title falling naturally from his lips for the first time. “The stars.”

He is lucky, he supposes, that he cannot remember the days before the mines.

After that time of stars and wonder, of _safe_ , the sky grew bright and brighter, the stars disappearing one by one. Suddenly, the light of a thousand burst from the horizon. It was as if a firebrand had been placed upon his eyes and skin and he fell, whimpering, to the ground, clamping his hands over his eyes, trying to return to the comforting darkness. Behind him, he could hear Ao moaning, a litany of curses and pleas. Through the fear, he remembered very distantly, large hands closing on his face, forming thin slits. Someone who had been _safe_ had shown him how to see in the painful brightness until he could find shelter. He formed thin slits between his fingers and crawled to the nearest crevice and curled up in it.

When the burning light finally disappeared, he unfurled from his crouch and slunk over to Ao’s side. The light had left a thin, mocking sliver of itself in the sky, but it was cold, not as bright. He took Ao’s hand, made him rise and move. Together, stumbling, they made their way in an arbitrary direction, the distant green smudges, pulled instinctually towards the trees. As they walked, the ground slowly but surely became to awaken again, shivering and shuddering. Looking behind, he could see the instability increasing in the rocks, and he was more and more insistent in nudging Ao onwards. But, every star rising, it was harder and harder to make Ao rise from their series of shelters from the blinding light.

On the seventh star rising, they reached the tree line. Under the canopy, he turned around to find that Ao had stopped and was staring up into boughs. Tears ran freely down Ao’s cheeks, washing the clan markings clean of the grime on his face. Suddenly, he yelled, “I am free! I am under the trees again and I am free!” His voice echoed for a long moment in the silent forest. There was the distant screech of a startled bird.

Slowly, Ao’s knees buckled, and he fell to the mossy ground. He came very close to Ao before he could hear his quiet words, choked with sobs.

“I am sorry, Lhûgluin. I am sorry for leaving you here all alone.” His hands came slowly up, gesturing _sadness, regret, goodbye_.

_No,_ he gestured, _no, no, no._ He turned around. He did not want Ao to see.

“Look Ao,” he said instead, “the stars.”

**Author's Note:**

> :)))) I've made myself sad. Thanks Shin-ah. It hurt me to refer to him without a name but he doesn't have one yet!
> 
> Come cry with me! I am greymantleish on tumblr.


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